dash

When the alarm on my phone begins to blare at six-thirty, I have zero intention of moving. My body is exhausted, my head groggy and I’m way too comfortable to even think about getting up.

It’ll shift to auto-snooze in a minute. I just have to be patient.

A moment later, the blaring stops and I release a long sigh, shifting slightly as I settle into the pill…

Oh… wait.

That’s not a pillow.

Moving my cheek against the warmth beneath my face as I register my hand tucked between two very smooth thighs, a very different type of alarm sounds off in my mind and I blink myself awake.

At the same moment, my pillow begins to stir beneath me and I still my movements, eyes wider now as I recognize the small, rhinestone charm inches from my face. A memory flashes of the last time I was at Mason’s house and I’m instantly reminded of Evie’s bellybutton piercing when she reamed our asses for waking her up.

Oh, fuck.

My mind is reeling, registering what my hand is gripping, when she breaks the silence.

“Why is your hand on my vagina?” she asks, her voice a combination between confusion, dread and fury. I pull away, staring up at the ceiling in silence for a moment before I rake my hands over my face, releasing a groan of my own. “Oh, no. Oh, shit!” she gasps, sitting straight up and staring out in front of her. “Oh, son of a fucking fucker! Dammit!”

I fucked Evie.

I fucking fucked fucking Evie.

Mason is going to fucking kill me.

“Oh, God,” I groan, my mind reeling in panic as my life flashes before my eyes.

I never thought it would end this way.

“Why did you let me drink so much?” she demands, smacking me with her pillow and pulling my attention back to her furious gaze.

“What?” I ask, shocked at her nerve, although I don’t know why. Typical fucking Evie. “Don’t you dare try and pin this nightmare on me, you little shit!”

“Dash, come on,” she says, pulling the fallen sheet over her tits as her cheeks blaze. “Be reasonable. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me ever want to have sex with you!” she insists. “I don’t know what kind of weird, voodoo, beer shit you pulled on me last night, but it’s obvious that this was your doing, not mine!”

“First of all, if you think I’m doing some kind of internal happy dance, you’re wrong, so you can just get the fuck over yourself,” I start, watching her roll her eyes. “Second of all, you’re a grown-ass woman and I wasn’t even in here when you made the decision to hijack my beer.” She tries to interrupt me, but I don’t let her. “Besides, I don’t remember much about last night, but I do know you started it! You kissed me.”

“No, I did not!” she shouts.

“Yes, you fucking did! I said one nice thing to you and you threw yourself at me like some kind of Van Halen groupie!”

“That’s fucking ridiculous! I would nev…” she starts, memory flashing in her mind before she closes her eyes tight in embarrassment. “Oh, my God,” she whimpers. “Oh, no…”

“Oh, yeah,” I counter victoriously. “So, you can step down off that little high horse of yours and stop pointing fingers like you’re the victim of some Hard Copy episode.”

“Van Halen? Hard Copy? What are you, eighty?” she balks, shaking her head as she stares ahead for a minute before she glances back over at me, eyes narrowed. “So, what? Are you trying to say this is my fault?”

“No, but I’m not letting you put it all on me, either,” I smirk, although I’m finding no humor in this situation.

My alarm blares once more and I slide my thumb over the screen, silencing it and releasing a long sigh. I stand, twisting slightly and move from the bed, a muffled string of curse words leaving my lips the only noise in the otherwise silent room. I walk toward the dresser and reach for a bottle of water, twisting the top off and tossing it into the trash before I drain it. When no movement comes from her side of the bed, I glance over, finding her staring at the wall beside her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask. “Are you just going to sit there?”

“I’m trying to avoid staring at your ass.”

“Right,” I nod, watching her childishly bury her face in the pillow she’s using to cover herself with. “Hey, when’d you get your nipples pierced?”

She screams into her pillow, putting a slow, evil grin on my lips. I’ll be the first to admit that waking up naked next to Evie this morning wasn’t on my bucket list by any means. The very thought of having my dick inside someone I harbor so much hatred for makes my skin crawl, but it is what it is.

I can drink myself into a coma later.

Right now, we’ve got a plane to catch.

“Listen, my memory might not be the best, but I think we can both agree that the time for modesty is behind us, sweetheart,” I muse, unable to stifle the chuckle in my chest when she pulls the pillow away from her face and her cheeks are blazing. “Besides, you had nothing but nice things to say about my ass a few hours ago.”

I blow her a kiss and wink, more to piss her off than anything, shutting the door just in time to shield myself from the shoe sailing toward my head.

Once we’re both showered and dressed, we make our way down to the front desk in awkward silence, her staring down at her phone as I check-out, both of us refusing to look at the other.

“We hope you enjoyed your stay,” the receptionist says in false sweetness, giving me a wide smile.

“Yeah, well we didn’t,” Evie grunts from behind me. “It was awful. I’m never coming back to this bag of crap hotel again.”

“Um… I’m sorry, ma’am,” the lady offers, her expression shocked. “Was there something the matter?”

“Yeah, there is,” Evie says, huffing toward the counter. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Rebecca.”

“Alright, Rebecca,” she spits. “You tell that rat bastard bartender of yours if I come back to this motherfucker, I’m takin’ his scrawny little ass down.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You shouldn’t serve emotional people that much alcohol and then let them order beer from room service!” Evie continues, her arms flailing dramatically, pulling the attention of the other guests toward us. “I mean, why the hell would you do that to a person, Rebecca? Why?”

“Evie…” I try, avoiding the awkward glances her little freak out are earning us both. “You’re making an ass of yourself.”

“You shut up! You shut your whore mouth to me!” she spins on me, her cheeks heating once more before she faces the desk again. “Do you have coffee?” she shouts, pulling a quick nod from Rebecca as she directs her to the breakfast area near the exit. “Thank you! I’m sorry I’m shouting at you! I’m having a really bad weekend!”

Rebecca says nothing, instead watching her storm away toward the coffee.

I’m normally not someone who gets embarrassed… well, ever, but the combination between Rebecca’s accusatory glare and the half dozen people staring at me in shock as Evie leaves their line of sight has my face heating slightly.

“Sorry,” I offer her quietly, not sure what else to say about the scene. “She’s just… she’s a fucking psychopath.”

“Thank you for saying that,” Rebecca replies, giving me a saccharin sweet smile. “Are the two of you traveling together?”

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Good luck,” she says dryly. “And enjoy your flight.”

Ugh.

evie

“This weekend is fucking bullshit,” I whisper hatefully under my breath, reaching for the creamer, stirring it into my cup as I watch the sweetener dissolve. “Seriously! Worst vacation ever!” I proclaim, grabbing for two more packets. “Like I don’t have enough fucking problems,” I continue my quiet rant, tossing the used coffee stirrer into the small trashcan. “Stupid ass shit. I’m calling corporate.”             

“Evie!” I hear from my left, the sound of his deep voice pulling me from my fit, tugging at a forgotten memory of my name leaving his lips in a heavy pant the night before.

My cheeks heat furiously for a moment before I shake it off.

“What?” I ask. “Why are you screaming at me?”

“I’m not screaming, I raised my voice because I’m trying to tell you something and you’re going all Beezlebub psycho over here.”

“Beezlebub? What, did you just learn that one?” I reply, rolling my eyes and making my way over to a small table near the shuttle pick-up. “And I doubt very seriously I’m acting like a psycho.”

“You’re right. I mean, you haven’t blinked in like two minutes, but I’m sure that’s totally normal,” he says, making a face and shaking his head.  “Whatever. You need to get your shit together before we make it to the cabin tonight with your family.”

“My family?” I start, feeling my eyes widen with dread. “Oh, my God!” I gasp, throwing my hand over my mouth. “My family can never find out about us, Dash.”

“Trust me. I won’t be telling anyone about this.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I reply, my eyes narrowed as the coffee cup hovers in front of my lips. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“I know, Evie,” he smirks, leaning back in his seat. “I hate you sometimes, too, babe.”

“Ugh! Whatever,” I roll my eyes, taking a long, much needed sip from my cup. “You know, I don’t even get what you’re so fuckin’ burnt up about. I mean, you got to have sex with this,” I continue, gesturing toward my tight physique. I’m not one of those girls who thinks I’m hot shit or anything, but I work the fuck out. Just sayin’. “I’m an artist…”

“Wow!” he laughs, making my ears heat almost instantly with fury. “You really know what guys want.”

“I work out daily, Dash. And I don’t mean some lame ass ten minutes on the treadmill before I go tan and hang out at the smoothie bar, either,” I set my coffee cup down, ticking off numbers with my hand. “I do yoga. I do pilates. I plank like a motherfucker and I do kegels like they’re going out of fucking style,” I spit, totally feeling like there’s never been a better time in my life to tell someone they just got served. “It makes sense for me to be upset, but you?”

“What about me?”

“You should be giving me a fucking medal,” I reply, making him laugh. “I’m serious. You should be feeding me grapes and giving me like… fifty dollars.”

“Oh, so the truth comes out,” he smirks, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Yeah, it does!”

“You’re upset because I was given the pleasure of drunk fucking your prissy little ass…”

“Yeah.”

“And then I had the nerve….”

“Yes!” I smack the table, reaching for my coffee cup, ready to take a victory sip.

“The nerve!” he continues dramatically. “To not hand feed you your fuckin’ breakfast.”

“It’s the least you could do…” I shrug, still glaring over my coffee cup.

“While I pay you off like a common whore.”

“Exact…. Wait, what?” I ask, my cup hovering against my lips. “No. Dash, that’s not what I meant.”

“Nope,” he laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right. I should pay my hooker real nice.”

“Dash.”

“But you know, if we’re making this a business transaction, I have a few complaints as a customer.”

“Okay, Dash. I get it.”

“No, no,” he continues. “Now, seeing it from your point of view, I’ve been selfish and quite frankly, pretty naïve to not see this for what it is.”

“Do you have something stuck in your ears?” I demand. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me?”

“See, I thought it was a case of exhaustion, falling to the charms of cheap beer and the Queen of the Damned, therefore going temporarily insane,” he says dramatically, ignoring my question. I give up, I think to myself as I stare up at the ceiling and blow a long breath out of my lips, shaking my head. “But you’re right. Let’s look at it for what it is. Now, you work out, that much is obvious…”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“But you know, so do I, Evie,” he counters. “I lift, I’m under a car half the day and busy lifting kegs the other half. I’m pretty fuckin’ bangin’.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. We’ll get to your charming dialogue soon enough,” he says, his words causing me to lower my eyes to meet his stupid smirk. “I’ve got tattoos and just look at this fuckin’ mug on me. Look at it,” he continues, smiling wide as he strokes his beard. “And then there’s this award-winning son of a bitch right here…” he winks, gripping his dick in his large palm, making me swallow hard. “Now, I haven’t measured Sir Gets-A-Lot since seventh grade, but I’d guess he’s hovering at around twenty inches.”

“If your dick was twenty inches long, I’d be dead, you idiot.”

“Yeah, well, right now I bet you wish you were, sugar,” he smirks, taking in the way I squirm uncomfortably due to the noticeable ache left between my thighs.

Not that I’ll ever admit it to him. Cocky fucker.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agree dryly. “I definitely wish I was dead right now.”

“Whatever. The way I see it, you add it all up and you owe me at least fifteen bucks, not the other way around. I take payments in cash or lap dances,” he shrugs, looking down at me with a long sigh. “In your case, we better go with cash.”